


Ay, Mi Amor!

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Adorable, Ernesto to was a cool guy, F/M, Help these two are too cute, Romance, all the people I showed it too said it was really cute, hopefully funny, un poco loco origin story, until he got all murder-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13979880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Héctor falls in love with Imelda.It does not go as poorly as it looks.





	Ay, Mi Amor!

Héctor would say later that he saw an _ángel_ in the crowd that day. Ernesto De La Cruz would snort and continue tuning his guitar as his _amigo_ waxed poetic about her. Ernesto had seen what Héctor had seen, and he saw no such thing. Certainly nothing to warrant Héctor stumbling over the words _of his own song_ and making them look like utter fools.

In fact, Ernesto was quite sure that Héctor had not seen an _ángel_ , but _un Diablo._ The woman had been hitting a man on the head with her shoe, yelling at him not to call her, ' _mi alma_ ' or ' _mi sirenita_ '. The man had been nodding frantically and retreating as fast as he could while being hit with a boot.

After the performance and their less than stellar applause, even though ' _The World Es Mi Familia_ ' was usually an instant hit, Ernesto turned to his friend, ready to berate him for messing up onstage. Héctor, however, was too far gone, "She _es la luz de_ _mi mundo,_ Ernesto! I've got to find out who she is!"

Ernesto rolled his eyes at the younger man, "You said music was the light of your world not two days ago, _mi amigo._ You need to get your head on straight."

Héctor would not be diverted. Ernesto knew that sometimes you had to let them make mistakes on their own, so he shrugged, "Alright, _mi amigo._ Do what you want." Héctor had eyed him suspiciously but let it drop.

Ernesto would later regret his decision.

Héctor proceeded to ask around to find his fiery _luz de su mundo._ Fortunately, everyone in Santa Cecilia knew of the woman who hit _mariachi's_ on the head with footwear. Apparently, she was rather infamous. Ernesto said that that alone seemed like a red flag. Héctor brushed him off and said he was lucky to have found her so fast and to have found out her name.

Imelda. Her name was Imelda.

Ernesto had laughed till he cried. Héctor hadn't seen the source of his amusement. Imelda. Powerful fighter. Warrior woman. Oh, poor Héctor was doomed.

A few days later, however, 'poor Héctor' was ready make his move.

Héctor jumped down from the stage after the end of one of their performances, and immediately trotted across the stone to a colorful stall selling papayas. Santa Cecilia's _tianguis_ had grown with new arrivals and the market was exceptionally crowded today. Luckily, he was looking for an _ángel_ in bright noticeable purple.

There she was, inspecting the papayas with careful concetration. Oh, he was wrong. She was no _ángel_. She was _una diosa._

He crept up until he stood side by side with her, eyeing the papayas. He opened his mouth, but she turned, eyes blazing, " _No._ "

She walked away, vanishing into the crowd. Héctor watched her go, mouth still open. The vendor chuckled, stroking his _bigote_ thoughtfully, "Bad luck, _mi amigo._ But you should know better than to fancy her. That Imelda has a heart colder than stone in the winter sun."

Héctor's mouth shut with a snap and his grin grew wide, "No, no. You're wrong, _señor_. I've never seen someone more _lleno de fuego_."

The vendor laughed, "Oh _chamaco_ , you're in too deep. Full of fire? Ha, you silly _músicos!_ " He turned around, counting his _pesos_ , still cackling, " _Lleno de fuego._ Ha. There's no warmth in those cold bones."

Héctor rolled his eyes and set out to find her again. He had to at least say something to her before she rejected him outright.

He didn't find her again at the _tianguis._

Later that night, Ernesto laughed uproariously at his friend's tale, "I told you, Héctor! Ah, come my friend. We'll play our problems away tonight. Don't worry, come dawn tomorrow you will have forgotten all about your pretty little _diosa._ "

Héctor didn't think so. Imelda wasn't just another pretty face to him, like all girls were to Ernesto. There was something different about her.

Dawn came and went, as did the dawn after that, but he didn't forget her. Ernesto got annoyed at his moping but dismissed it as his friend being melodramatic.

A week or so later, outside of the club they were performing for, Ernesto decided that something needed to be done. Héctor strummed a love song on his guitar thoughtfully and leaned against the crates. Ernesto sighed, pushing his _sombrero_ back, "Héctor, you need to stop thinking about her. You haven't even had a conversation with her yet and still you lay about crying ' _Ay, mi amor, mi amor._ ' It's ridiculous."

Héctor stopped the tune he'd been playing and looked up, an idea forming rapidly, "Ernesto, you are a genius."

"It's good to see you're finally acknowledging me for what I am. So now that you've recovered-"

Héctor whooped, "I shall win her over with _música!_ "

Ernesto shook his head with dismay, "Aye yi yi. You need a life my friend."

Héctor returned to plucking the strings of his guitar with renewed purpose. Ernesto sighed, "This will not end well, _mi amigo._ "

* * *

 

Héctor laid about on the crates lazily, brow furrowed in concetration. His guitar rested carelessly beside him as he scribbled in his little red book. He had the basic rhythm of the song that was to woo his ladylove, but the word part was rather... lacking.

A shadow covered his book and he frowned, "Ernesto, move you're in my light." He heard an irritated and decidedly feminine cough from above him and he looked up slowly.

Imelda stood there, the sun silhouetting her beautifully annoyed frown. She looked astonishingly unamused, a hand on her hip and a basket in the other, "You are on my crates, _señor._ " The way she spat out _señor_ made him think she didn't really mean it.

He didn't move, " _Ay, señorita_... I did not know these were yours."

She snorted, "Well, are you going to get off them or not?"

" _Sí,_ eventually. But this is the first conversation I've managed to have with you. It would be foolish of me to end it so quickly!"

She raised an eyebrow, "So you're the _mariachi_ who's been pestering everyone about me. I will have you know that I am not interested."

He pouted, "But you don't even know me."

Her eyes narrowed as she shifted the basket in her arms, "I know enough about musicians to know that they are no good layabouts."

"You wound me!"

She nodded at him pointedly, lying about on her crates. He laughed, putting his book away into his pocket, "Alright, you got me there, _mi amor!_ "

Imelda glared at him as he got up, "The only reason I won't hit you for that is because I am too busy to be bothered."

He bowed, guitar in his left hand, "I'd count myself lucky to have one so radiant as you hit me with her shoe."

She rolled her eyes as she opened the crate, "Oh for sure..."

"Really! I would! I'd- I'd..." He searched around for something significant, "I'd let you tell me what the color of the sky was!"

Imelda straightened, looking at the crystal clear blue sky. She smirked, "And what if I say the color of the sky is red?"

"Then it is red!"

She gestured angrily, as if shooing away a stray cat, "Oh, get out of here, _mariachi!_ "

" _¡Ay, mi amor!_ "

Héctor that night was over the moon. Ernesto watched him skip about the dark abandoned plaza, "Ernesto! She is so wonderful! My heart has never felt so full!"

"She hates you, Héctor. Why don't you just relax? Calm down? She doesn't even like you, _muchacho._ "

Héctor danced about on his long giraffe legs, already belting out a fast paced song on his guitar, "She will when she hears the song I'll sing for her!"

Ernesto listened to the music thoughtfully, "Say, that's good, Héctor. You wrote it?"

Héctor laughed, " _Sí!_ Of course I did, Ernesto. Why are you surprised? After all, I wrote ' _The World Es Mi Familia_ '!"

Ernesto shrugged and went back to picking at his guitar, already trying to figure out the tune, "Well, you haven't been living up to your talent lately. That's all."

Héctor paused, full of shock, " _Mi amigo!_ Are you saying 'Everyone Knows Juanita' was disappointing?"

Ernesto shrugged his shoulders hesitantly, "Eh, a little bit. It certainly wouldn't get us to the top."

Héctor rolled his eyes playfully, "Just because you don't see my value-" Ernesto laughed, "You needed my help with old Juanita."

He nodded, "I'm not sure about that line of yours. I don't think the _niños pequeños_ can sing it now."

Ernesto tapped the side of his nose, "But there are certainly a wide range of fellows who like it better now, eh?"

Héctor shrugged and began playing again, "Well, I don't care what you say. This song will be _magnífico!_ "

Ernesto listened again, "If this is what it takes to get you composing, I say that you should chase after every woman in _Méjico!_ Ha!"

Héctor huffed, "Not all women, _chamaco._ Just this one!"

* * *

 

Ernesto De La Cruz sighed as his partner was late for yet another job. Where was Héctor? Didn't he know their livelihood depended upon music? But, no. No, he was probably out wooing his love.

Imelda was a pretty little thing, but Ernesto thought she'd be a passing distraction. Unfortunately, Héctor couldn't do anything in halves.

Ernesto finished his set and hopped down from the stage accompanied by whoops and yells.

It was a good thing he could do their performances without Héctor, or else he'd be completely doomed.

Ernesto left a few hours later, whistling a merry tune. He'd made it five feet from the door before Héctor, dashing out of an alleyway to his right, accidentally slammed into him.

Ernesto caught him, hardly jarred by the impact and brushed him off, "Ay! Beanpole! Where are you off to in such a hurry? Our performance ended several hours ago!"

Héctor blinked, "What? It can't be so late already!"

Ernesto put a hand on his shoulder, " _Mi amigo,_ you have a terrible sense of time."

Héctor groaned, hands to his forehead, "I'm sorry, Ernesto. _Lo siento_. I just- I got distracted. I didn't mean to be so late-!"

Ernesto raised an eyebrow.

Héctor struggled to articulate, hands waving frantically, "It's just! Imelda was in a good mood! She called me Héctor, and _mariachi_ only once! And Ernesto she can sing! Oh, how she can sing, Ernesto!"

Ernesto laughed, "You, _mi amigo,_ are in too deep. You are _enamorado_ , Héctor. _Dios_ help us all."

Héctor rolled his eyes, "No, no, Ernesto! You didn't hear her sing _La Llorona!_ It was breathtaking!"

Ernesto took his starry eyed friend by the shoulder, "We shall celebrate with drinks tonight, Héctor! You'll tell me about your _mujer hermonsa,_ and I'll tell you about the _magnífico_ performance and all the money you missed!"

Héctor sighed, "Ay yi yi. I'm sorry for missing it, Ernesto."

Ernesto patted his back, nearly making him double over from the force of it, "No worries, Héctor! What's a little conflict among friends?"

Héctor smiled in the face of his friend's great booming laugh.

* * *

 

 

"Where should I put my shoes, _mi amor?_ "

"I don't care, _mariachi!_ Go away! I'm busy!"

Héctor sighed mournfully, "You can't talk and hang out clothes to dry?"

Imelda glared at him around the garments, " _Mi papa_ will tan your hide if he sees you. And I've got half the mind to let him!"

He laughed, "Ay, I saw him leave with those twins. Are they your _hermanos?_ They seem alright. They liked my guitar." She glared at him and hissed, "You talked to my brothers?!"

" _Sí._ They seemed to like me just fine."

She raised her eyes heavenward and returned to hanging up the clothes, " _Dios_ , give me strength." 

He sighed and looked at her adoringly, happy smile in place, "Besides you would've chased me away with your boot if you really hated me."

She peeked back around quickly, brows furrowed in anger, long braid swinging, "I could still do that, you know!"

He shrugged happily, still leaning against the wall, "Whatever should I do with the shoe you throw at me?"

"Put it on your head for all I care, _mariachi!_ " She reached down threateningly for her shoe, "In fact, I will hit you on your head if you don't leave-"

He danced away quickly, out of reach, " _Sí, sí!_ I'm leaving, _mi amor! Gracias,_ Imelda I am eternally grateful for your help!"

She rolled her eyes, returning to the laundry, "You are crazy!"

"Just _un poco loco_ , for you _mi amor!_ "

* * *

 

Imelda did not like the _mariachi_ that seemed to follow her about like a stray street dog. Her _mamá_ had told her not to feed a street dog or they'd follow you forever. She hadn't known how true that was till now. That Héctor Rivera always seemed to be at her elbow whenever she turned around, ' _¡Buenos Dias, mi amor!_ Is it not a beautiful day?' ' _Buenos Tardes, Diosa_ , I've come to help carry your packages.' ' _Buenos Noches, mi amor,_ would you like someone to walk you home?' ' _Hola,_ Imelda! I'm here to help with laundry!'

It was immensely tiresome and she'd told him in so many words. They had been something along the lines of 'the liberties that you're taking are going to make nothing but trouble.' (Imelda ignored the fact that she let him walk her home, carry her packages, and help her with laundry... and enjoyed every last minute of it.)

Imelda sighed and examined the avocado suspiciously. She nearly jumped at the sound of the _grito_ from the fountain. Ugh, _mariachi._ And she'd know that _grito_ anywhere. Héctor. Another deeper yell as more people gathered... That was Ernesto.

She turned to the next stand, which just happened to be closer to where the two were performing. Ernesto shouted to his audience, "And this song is a new creation by _mi compadre,_ Héctor Rivera! Let us hope that he does not kill our ears, eh?"

Imelda froze as the first fast paced notes and then words filled the square.

" _What color is the sky? ¡Ay, mi amor, Ay mi amor!_  
_You tell me that it's red! ¡Ay mi amor, Ay mi amor!_  
_Where should I put my shoes? ¡Ay, mi amor, Ay mi amor!_  
_You say put them on your head! ¡Ay, mi amor, Ay mi amor!_ "

Imelda whirled, eyes wide. Héctor was dancing about on the edge of the fountain, pure joy in every step. Ernesto laughed, singing along. The crowd was loving it, whooping and bouncing.

" _You make me un poco loco!_  
_Un poquititito loco!_  
_The way you keep me guessing, I'm nodding and I'm yessing_  
_I'll count it as a blessing_  
_That I'm only  
Un poco loco!_ "

Imelda's eyes narrowed. That _pinche mariachi!_

Imelda left the market, fuming. She pretended not to notice that she was humming along to his ( _her_ ) song all the way home.

* * *

 

" _¡Oye, Mariachi!_ "

Ernesto looked up, his idle strumming on his guitar stilling as he frowned and turned curiously. Héctor, legs swinging from where he sat by the fountain, also turned towards the noise, " _Sí?_ "

His eyes widened at the sight of a furious woman marching up to him, boot in hand. He scrambled off the bricks, precious guitar shielding him, "Ah, _mi hermana_ , how are you?"

"You do not get to call me sister, _Mariachi!_ " Héctor grinned sheepishly, still backing up, "Imelda, then, how are you?"

"Come back here you _pinche_ coward!"

Ernesto snorted, watching this whole commotion delightedly. Imelda, seeing how Héctor was still several yards away, turned to the other musician angrily, "And you! Don't think I'm letting you out of anything either!"

Ernesto held up his hands placatingly, an amused smile still fixed in place, "Imelda, you are his _inspiración,_ go easy on him."

Imelda whacked him with her boot and he yelped, immediately recoiling, "And you are his impulse control, _imbécil!_ "

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! _Lo siento!_ Mercy!"

Imelda huffed and turned to Héctor who had taken her moment of distraction to try and sneak out of the plaza, "Héctor Rivera do not take another step!"

He froze, that desperate grin still in place, "Look Imelda, it was just a song-"

"Just a song?!"

He tensed, ready for flight. Imelda stormed closer, " _¿Un poco loco?_ I'll show you _un poco loco_ , you _imposible_ , _irritante_ , _músico!_ "

"Imelda, _Diosa-_ " time slowed as he spoke his next unfortunate words. Ernesto knew then that they would be Héctor's last and that he would be witness to a murder, " _Ay, mi amor._ You do make me _un poco loco._ "

If Imelda could have had literal fire in her eyes, she would've, "HÉCTOR-"

He bolted.

She gave chase, shouting a hurricane of insults that had mothers covering their children's ears with alarm.

When she caught up to him (his long legs were good for something, apparently) she bounced her shoe off the top of his head, "Ay yi yi! _Mi amor,_ you hit hard!"

Imelda stood, and thrust a finger in his face, "You! You put me in a song! In your song!"

He held up his hands sheepishly, " _¿Sí?_ "

"Why- you- you!" She seemed to be turning red. "You, _mariachi!_ " She moved almost too fast for Héctor to register. She kissed him on his cheek and then fled.

Héctor touched his cheek in wonder, his face probably as red as he felt.

Imelda had kissed him. _She'd_ kissed _him._

Héctor whooped, jumping into the air, " _Ay!_ She loves me! _Mi amor!_ "

Someone across the street slammed open a window, "Quiet down, _Idiota!_ Some people are trying to sleep!"

Héctor blushed again, but did not let out another _grito_. Instead, he pulled his guitar to his front and skipped off, strumming and singing quietly, "I'll count it as a blessing, that I'm only _Un Poco Loco!_ "


End file.
